


good luck to you

by shineyma



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e21 Ragtag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6626362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/pseuds/shineyma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma’s interview with Cybertek goes surprisingly well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	good luck to you

**Author's Note:**

> I have been trying to write this FOREVER and I am so relieved to finally have it done. Even if I might get murdered by one group or another for writing it instead of working on the millions of things I have due.
> 
> Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review!

Jemma’s interview with Cybertek goes surprisingly well.

It helps that she’s not really _lying_. Cybertek attempted to recruit her while she was working on her second doctorate, and even when she declined their offer in favor of SHIELD, the recruiter she spoke to urged her to keep them in mind if ever she was in search of new employment. That’s what she’s told them, and all of it is true. She’s here as precisely who she is: Jemma Simmons, recently unemployed former SHIELD agent.

It’s only her distaste for Cybertek, with its Centipede connections and open praise of HYDRA scientists, that she needs to hide—and, having spent more time than she’d like surrounded by scientists of far less competence, she has plenty of practice at _that_.

There’s still fear, of course, but Coulson and May’s voices in her ear help. They’re mostly quiet, so as not to distract her, but whenever she begins to get flustered, they’re always right on time with steady encouragement and reminders to breathe. Additionally, the fact that her interviewers seem so eager to have her on board is also reassuring, in its own way.

That Skye doesn’t seem to be having much luck on her end of things is worrying, but at least for the moment, it’s none of Jemma’s concern. The only thing she needs to focus on is _her_ part of the mission, and it’s going very smoothly.

…At least until the very end, when—just as she’s opening her mouth to thank her interviewers for their time—the door swings open to reveal Grant Ward.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, smile sharp, and Jemma shoots to her feet so violently that her chair skids right back into the wall.

“Ward,” she says, and May swears in her ear.

“Hi, Simmons,” he says pleasantly.

For one wild, senseless moment, she seriously considers making a run for it, despite knowing that such an attempt would be fruitless—he is, after all, positioned neatly between her and the door. But when movement in her peripheral vision draws her eyes to the interviewers, she finds they’re both holding guns ( _real_ guns, not ICERs) on her.

So much for escape, then.

“Stay calm, Jemma,” Coulson orders her calmly. “We’re coming to get you.”

She knows from experience that replying to someone over a comm when cornered like this is foolish, but it’s not the memory of that disaster with Sitwell that keeps her from urging Coulson to hurry. Instead, complete terror steals her voice away as Ward rounds the table.

“You have no idea,” he says, sounding just as friendly as—if not more so than—he ever has, “how happy I am to see you. You’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Have I?” she asks. She impresses herself with the steadiness of her voice, though it’s a wonder she can even _hear_ it over the panicked hammering of her heart. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He chuckles as he comes to a stop behind her. “Not as sorry as you’re gonna be.”

Her stomach knots with dread at the threat, and it only worsens when his hand lands on her hip, preventing her from turning to face him.

“I went to a lot of trouble to get that hard drive of Skye’s unlocked, you know,” he says, quietly.

As he speaks, he draws his other hand along the side of her neck, gathering her hair so he might drape it over her opposite shoulder. It’s a very intimate move from a man who has only ever been, at best, a friend and is currently an enemy—intimate enough to freeze Jemma in place.

She should bat his hand aside, shove him away, say something cutting about personal space…but the light drag of his calluses against the nape of her neck sends sparks throughout her body, putting every nerve at attention. She can’t help a shiver.

Then he bends to drop a soft kiss to her neck, and her breath catches.

“So you can imagine,” he continues, straightening, “how annoyed I was when it turned out to be useless.”

Jemma goes cold—the sort of cold that having the heat of him pressed all along her back doesn’t do anything to ease.

“Your research into the GH-325 wasn’t on the hard drive.” His fingers curl over her hip, and then he’s turning her to face him, pinning her back against the table in a single step. “So I’m guessing it wasn’t on the Bus’ servers, either. Which means that the only copy of the intel we need…” He taps her temple gently. “…is right here.”

Oh, dear. She was really hoping it would take Garrett and Ward longer to reach that particular conclusion.

Actually, she was hoping that they’d be _caught_ before they could figure her out. She certainly wasn’t intending to be caught by _them_.

Not all of the pounding in her ears is her own heart, however; there are also the sounds of Coulson, May, and (she presumes) Trip fighting their way towards her. And those sounds are dying down, which suggests they’re getting close.

She won’t be caught for long. All she needs is to stall until the others get here.

“It is,” she admits evenly. “Unfortunately for you.”

“I don’t think it’s unfortunate,” he says, almost idly plucking the comm right out of her ear. “I think it’s a pretty lucky break, actually.”

He flicks the comm over her shoulder, and she twists just in time to see it land perfectly in the pitcher of water at the other end of the table. Her heart sinks along with it as Ward turns her to face him again.

“One way or another,” he says, “you’re gonna help us.”

“Am I?” she asks, as disdainfully as she’s able.

Something in her chest pulls painfully as he smiles down at her, because it’s the kind of smile that she would have killed to get from him not even a week ago. Actually, everything about this moment—him pinning her to a table, his hands tight on her hips, all of his attention fixed wholly on her—would have been enough to make her _decade_ before…well, before. Before she knew he was a traitor and a murderer. Before she personally performed a post-mortem on a man—a friend—that _he_ killed.

Before she spent two nights straight holding Skye as she cried herself to sleep.

“You are. You do it willingly, you’ll get rewarded,” he says, and knowing the truth about him and everything he’s done doesn’t make her mouth any less dry as he thumbs at her lower lip. “Unwillingly…well. I’m sure a genius like you can fill in those blanks on your own.”

Jemma swallows, because yes.

She can absolutely fill those blanks in.


End file.
